Fashionista to Passionista

It’s interesting how we see all experiences from our own perspective. Mine is predictably female. And so, without giving it much thought, I figured my experience – shared by many women of a certain age – was a distinctly female one. Not so, as it turns out. While discussing living passioniately with friends, both male and female, it seems that the search for meaning and joy is not restricted to the fairer sex. Just because they don’t talk about it as much, doesn’t mean that men of a certain age are not also searching for that which makes them feel passionate.

A biker friend of mine is involved with a charitable organization which helps children with cancer. He himself cut off many inches of hair and donated it for the benefit of others. He’s making a difference. A neighbour, past his 50th birthday, recently took up mountain biking, a sport usually reserved for men half his age. Fresh from an outing to the escarpment, sporting angry bruises to prove it, he couldn’t be happier. He’s raised his kids, and he is now focusing on what brings him joy. Another male neighbour is exploring his love of photography and running (separately – I don’t think he takes pictures while he runs; that would be dangerous.) It was actually a male colleague who brought Roz Savage to my attention. Roz is an eco-warrior who changed her life radically by leaving her former spouse and home behind, and began rowing around the world to bring attention to environmental issues. Not too far past his 40th birthday, decided he was not satisfied with the status quo and so, in a life-altering decision, is going back to school for his Ph.D. Yes, it affects his family. Yes, it means significant changes. But, as he points out, it’s his life, and it’s half over. One of my readers even commented that my blog – obviously geared towards gatherers – had attracted a hunter.

The common denominator here is that middle-age seems to bring about a time of reflection for some of us, hunters and gatherers alike. We feel compelled to find meaning in what we are doing, and doing what is meaningful. We have very little patience for that which doesn’t conribute to our own growth or to the benefit of the community. I think that’s a good thing. Agricultural revolution – industrial revolution – technological revolution – evolution revolution. We boomers make up a good portion of the population. We can make a difference.

As for the picture of Hugh Jackman, well, I have no idea if Hugh is a self-aware man. But he sure is pretty.

pas-sion  – noun. Any powerful or compelling emotion.

Often when you hear the word “passion” one thinks of a passionate love affair. And yes, being in a passionate love affair may indeed cause you to leap out of bed for something other than causing a Dutch Oven (if you’re not sure what I’m referring to, google Dutch Oven slang). Being in love may cause you to postpone sleep while you watch the object of your affection drift off to dreamland. Who hasn’t listened to Steve Tyler sing “I don’t want to close my eyes, I don’t want to fall asleep, cuz I’d miss you babe, and I don’t want to miss a thing”, and thought I know, right? Who hasn’t leapt out of a warm, comfortable bed to try power walking or jogging or any other hellish early morning activity with the love of your life because you want to be conscious as much as possible. Because they’re just so amazing. They’re so interesting. And you don’t want to miss a thing.

Ah, love. Many of us, by now, have realized that building our life around a relationship is a double-edged sword. Doing so can provide much joy, and just as much disappointment. Relationships are wonderful, fabulous, challenging, disappointing, and back to wonderful. And they are all without. The passion this blog is about is within. It is housed entirely within you, and therefore no body, and no thing has the power to affect it. That kind of passion is indestructible, impervious to life’s uncertainties and humankind’s foibles. It is entirely and utterly within your control and I can tell you from experience, it provides the kind of joy that no love affair with a person can provide. It provides delight and confidence and knowing. Because it’s not about you as referenced by another, but it is about you, undiluted.

(Perk: When you fall out of love with an interest, it won’t flame you on Facebook, slash your tires, or trash talk you to your social circle.)

Give it some thought. What would get you out of bed if you didn’t have to do it? For me, I’ve discovered two loves over the past year. The first is writing – something that was always in the back of my mind but is now front of mind. I will get up early because I have an idea rolling around in my head that is pushing against my skull to get down on paper (well, on the screen). It will keep me up at night. It will give me butterflies. Since buying the car of my dreams two weeks ago (2011 6-speed Mustang, dubbed The Beast), I will get out of a warm, comfy bed, back out of the driveway, and rumble quietly out of my still-sleeping neighborhood so I can shift my way through 6 gears out of the suburbs, and then open him up and let all 305 horses fly down the highway. What delights me may have no effect on you whatsoever. Not only is that okay, that’s the point. It’s all about me.

Find out what, not whom, you are in love with, and you will create a whole new level of passion in your life. If it gets you out of bed in the morning, chances are you’re on the right track.  You are amazing, You are interesting. And you shouldn’t miss a thing.

In my humble opinion, if you are part of the human race (and chances are if you are reading this, you’re human), then you are in customer service. Regardless of your level of education, no matter how many degrees follow your name, despite your title or station in life, you are in customer service. What do I mean by this?

My belief is that we are just one big global community: the human race. Some of us are black sheeps, and some are that family member we have to keep locked up in the attic for their own safety. Some of us are the prodigal son or daughter, and still others are the sibling or parent we try to emulate. We are one big bag of mixed beliefs and perspectives and motivations. And yet, we have one thing in common. We are all part of the human race, that distinct species which is self-aware. (I realize there is proof that other species like dolphins are also self-aware but I will leave them to write their own blogs. I’m just sticking to human stuff for now).

Given that we are civilized enough, for the most part, to not act wholly on instinct, I think we must then realize we are all in customer service, for lack of a better term. Or really, I guess there is a better term. Let’s call it consideration. Consideration for others. What a concept! People, in general, seem to me to be pretty miserable these days. I see a lot of road rage (okay, that’s usually me), rudeness, and general lack of respect for our fellow (wo)man. When was the last time you saw someone get up out of a seat for a pregnant woman? Or let someone cut in line because they were using a walker? When did we start turning a blind eye to plain old consideration? What are we teaching the young’uns?

I am one of those people who probably irritates the hell out of others. If there is someone behind me in the grocery line and they have two things, I will offer to let them go ahead of my twenty things. Sometimes, the person with two things behind me makes very obvious signs (impatient sighs, looking repeatedly at their watch, tapping their foot) that they are VERY IMPORTANT because they are obviously in a VERY BIG HURRY. Well, you know what? I am organized, calm, and graceful, and if it will help my fellow man to go ahead of me and save 3 minutes of his or her life, I will consider their needs, and let them go ahead.

Yes, I let people in who are trying to merge into traffic. Even the douchebags who barrel down the shoulder to where the traffic is merging rather than having the decency to sit and wait in traffic like the rest of us. Why? Well, maybe his wife is in labour. Maybe he really has to go the bathroom. Maybe his child didn’t come home from school without calling. In short, I consider what might be causing the other person to act that way, rather than consider what it means to me. And I like to give people the benefit of the doubt.

I can remember going to a dance performance in the dead of winter. It took me over an hour to get there, and I was mighty relieved when my guy and I made it to our seats. They weren’t great seats but we could see, and the music was wonderful. A couple sat behind us and the woman was beside herself. Well, actually her husband was beside her, and he was mortified at her behaviour. She huffed and puffed about the hour-long trip in from the suburbs and how these seats were TERRIBLE and how could they charge THAT MUCH for tickets if she couldn’t even SEE. She was ruining the experience for all those around here. For the love of god. Her ranting was so distracting that I turned around and offered her our seats if she thought moving up one aisle would be helpful. She did indeed think so, and despite the silent protests from my guy who is, shall we say, a little less accomodating, we switched seats with the couple behind us. Cons: We were one seat farther than we had been. Pros: The husband shot me a look of gratitude I will never forget. The shrew stopped shrieking so we could actually enjoy the show. The surrounding patrons all thanked us for improving their experience.

My personal philosphy has always been to try and make every connection with another human being a positive one. I see no reason to make anyone’s day miserable, to inject negativity into someone else’s life. I see no reason why, if I’m having a bad day, that I should try to bring others down with me. Make no mistake, I’m no doormat or pushover. Just ask my kids or my guy. I will not tolerate being treated with disrespect. Ever. I can’t control the behavior of others but I can definitely set boundaries for what I will and will not accept. I am entirely in control of my own reactions and actions. I only allow those people into my life who enhance it. All others are not welcome.

I’m talking here though about the world in general. Here is an example. I’m driving along a stretch of road at a nice, almost-legal clip. There is no one in front or behind me. I see that someone is sitting at a crossroads, waiting to turn in the same direction as I am. Rather than waiting for me to pass – which is the right thing to do because it is clean and green behind me as far as the eye can see – this idiot – I mean person – pulls out right in front of me causing me to slam on my brakes. I then have to trail this person, who is obviously having trouble locating their gas pedal, for the next 10 miles. My instincts tell me that I should be perfectly justified in ramming them, or at the very least passing them, glaring at them, giving them a one-finger salute, and holding up a sign which says something about getting their license in a CrackerJack box. But, my considerate nature says something different. Perhaps it’s a teen who just got their license. If it was my daughter making a less than stellar decision on the road, I would hope that those around her won’t try to run her off the road or flip her off. Maybe it’s someone who just got some very bad news, and they really aren’t thinking straight. Let those without sin cast the first stone: I pride myself on my driving, but when I found out  my Dad had passed away from a massive heart attack, I’m quite sure my driving wasn’t excellent on that long, horrible drive to the out-of-town hospital. And on my way to my brother’s house to clean it out after he died, I did indeed get pulled over (and ticketed) because I was going thirty over the speed limit. I had no idea; I was in a fog.

My point is, sure, there are a lot of douchebags out there. But can any of us, honestly, ever say we didn’t indulge in some douchebaggery of our own at some point, intentionally or not? I think not. I think the world would be a much better place if we all were more considerate of others and recognize we’re not all perfect all the time, and that it’s not personal. So what does customer service mean?

1. The customer (that’s the other guy) is always right. Okay, maybe not right, but we’ll at least give him or her the benefit of the doubt.

2. Any failure to deliver on our end should be corrected immediately. If we have contributed to a negative experience, admit it, fix it, and learn from it.

3. Under-promise and over-deliver. Be very careful about what you commit to, but once you do, stick to it and prove your integrity.

None of us are perfect, least of all me. I know that at the end of the day, I feel better about myself if I didn’t participate in the little dramas that people seem to get themselves caught up in. I feel better if I did my part to improve my corner of the world and the lives of the people in it. In most situations, I consider what’s in it for the other guy, not for me. I have made a significant effort in the last few years to live my life in a calm, graceful manner. Gone are the days of living on adrenalin, racing the clock, trying to do a million different things at once. As a result, I move through life being able to observe and adjust with little stress to my life. I factor in time buffers, I don’t leave anything to the last minute, and I recognize that each and every one of us is human. It’s taken 49 years to get to this serene point and I like it here. I feel sympathy for those who are still running themselves ragged to the point of frustration and exhaustion. I can see my younger self in those folks, and that’s part of where the consideration comes from as well: being able to put myself in their shoes.

I think the world would be a better place if we stopped flipping people off, and started empathizing. That is, unless someone does anything to my new Mustang. Then all bets are off.

One of the things that fascinates me the most about humankind is how different we all are. I love that while we are all fashioned out of the same elements, we are each put together just differently enough to create billions of individual humans with different perspectives, different passions, different interests, different personalities. What a fabulous kaleidoscope of diversity is humanity. How tedious and boring it would be if we were all the same. The Stepford Wives horrified me, not just because they wore ridiculously brimmed hats (a la Here Come The Brides) while grocery shopping, but because of the stifling sameness. (And speaking of 70’s movies, that sci-fi flick starring Farrah Fawcett also horrified me because a) citizens were “eliminated” at 30 years of age, and b) they all wore the 70’s idea of kicky, futuristic outfits, and they were quite hideous.)

What I think is wonderful about humanity is that you don’t give a rat’s ass about what matters to me, and right back atcha. Isn’t that wonderful!? I think it’s fabulous! It means that we have myriad charity groups so that those of us passionate about saving the whales can participate and contribute, as can those of us who want to improve living conditions for women in Rwanda. Some of us want to study geography, and others of us are obsessed with how things work. Some of us are the life of the party, and some of us like to quietly observe the life of the party.

I admire those people who respect the differences in others. I personally find the differences fascinating and positive. Therefore, when I learn that someone in my community is branching out, taking a chance, making a leap of faith, venturing into the unknown, all in the name of finding their passion or following their bliss or any other cute little phrase you want to label it with, well, I say booyah!! How many of us though, are surrounded by a majority of folks who, upon learning that we want to move a tad outside our carefully constructed comfort zone (complete with caution tape and everything), are very quick to label us crazy, restless, immature, or silly. How many of us are surrounded by people who want to know why we’re just not satisfied with the status quo?

I say to hell with the status quo. Sure, the status quo is safe. It’s predictable. It’s very Stepford Wives. But it’s not living. It’s not experiencing and failing and falling and trying again and starting over and succeeding and loving and laughing and grinning because you’re so damn delighted with yourself. You’re delighted with yourself because you ventured outside the box, and regardless of whether or not you failed or succeeded, you created and lived through an experience. And that, in and of itself, means success in my book. Because it enriches us and expands who we are. It makes us bigger on the inside.

I have read self-help  books which tell you to absolutely not tell anyone when you venture outside the box. They’ll just make you uncomfortable, not offer any support, create obstacles, label you crazy. You’re writing a book? Why? No one will publish it. No one will want to read it. Or, You want to go back to school? What for? You already have a job. You’re lucky to have a job. Why spend the money when you already have a career? What can you do with a Fine Arts degree anyway? I have also read as many books recommending you tell everyone on the planet so you can increase your sphere of influence and that people will rally to your cause when they see how important your new journey is. Regardless of whether and/or whom you decide to tell, the point is that it – whatever IT is – matters to you. And you matter. So what you care about matters, no matter what else.  What you care about has intrinsic value, and needn’t be defended or justified to anyone.

I’m here to tell you that if you followed a gut instinct, heeded an internal spark, investigated an urge, and took it beyond that to actually acting on it, well my friend, you are not crazy. You are amazing. But you are in the minority. Sadly, so many of us have become so firmly entrenched in our day to day lives and responsibilities and to-do lists that any thought of moving beyond that reality doesn’t even occur to us. And when we hear of someone who actually did it, we may offer congratulations, but many of us are secretly thinking “How dare you? You’ve proven that there is life beyond this, and, damn it, that shines a giant spotlight on the lack of deliberate intent in my life. Thanks, dude. On the other hand, maybe you’ll fail, and then I can feel good about myself again.”

Now, that sounds a little negative, and it is never my intention for this blog to be negative. I’m simply trying to point out that while some of us can be truly happy for our brothers and sisters who venture outside their safe little box, at least an equal number of us don’t like to hear about it, because it reminds us that we’re not venturing, we’re not experiencing, we’re not living. We’re simply existing. And misery loves company.

About a year ago, I starting paying attention to the sparks, to the glimmers of inspiration which began to push their way through to my consciousness. In all honesty, I didn’t consciously ask for the awareness. It developed as a result of the clearing of my mind after a loss where I simply wasn’t capable of filling my head with much else. I gained a new respect and love of life. I gained a very clear awareness of my own mortality and of the short span of each of our lives. In short, I realized that, at almost 50, I was running out of time to get my shit together.

And now, a year later, I organize a social group for some amazing women. The experience, and the members, feed my soul, and provide a sisterhood I never had growing up (I had brothers). What a wonderful gift. I have a blog which I contribute to regularly. It allows me to experience the joy of writing – something I lose myself in. You see, even if no one ever reads it, I am enjoying writing it – that’s the point. It’s my passion. If others enjoy it, well that’s a wonderful additional benefit. I have, in the last year,  participated in a Flash Mob, and conducted a speaking engagement (where I received a standing ovation by almost 2000 people). I also took a jewellery-making class and started guitar lessons, both of which didn’t inspire me enough to continue (although I can now repair my own jewellery which is cool). And I bought my dream car, a very aggressively styled Mustang which makes me grin every single time I turn the key. (My ex popped by to check it out and we happened to turn onto my street at the same time. He said he saw my grin before he saw the car.) The point is not the result. The point is the journey. The point is making the effort in the first place, even if people think you’re crazy.  The point is to find those things which keep you up at night and make you grin like an idiot.

You are entitled to live the life you choose. In fact, I believe it is our obligation to bring our particular gifts into the world. I believe that’s why we’re here. And, except for those blessed few who seem to be born knowing what their gifts are, the exquisite agony of trying to figure it all out is what life is really about. Once we learn to embrace that, the world is limitless. And I can tell you, raising children is rewarding, being part of loving relationships is wonderful, but being delighted with yourself, well, that’s a whole new level of joy.